Page 6 of Gold Rush

There’s no need for propriety in Proof. In fact, it’s discouraged here.

I order a scotch, then rest an elbow on the mahogany bar to survey the crowd. Lots of familiar faces. New York might be a big city, but the elitist segment of it is very tiny. Those who reach or are born into a certain stratosphere of privilege tend to live in the same neighborhoods, go to the same schools, have the same friends, summer in the same places, work at the same companies, date the same people. Kind of incestuous, if you really think about it.

My phone buzzes. I hesitate before pulling it out, concerned it’s Molly. If she’s apologizing, I’ll feel guilty. If she’s berating, it’ll put me in a worse mood.

It’s not Molly. It’s Gideon Rhodes, who I’ve been friends with since high school.

Rhody: Can’t make it tonight.

Rhody: Claudia’s parents are visiting.

I roll my eyes and shove my phone back in my pocket. Everyone got boring while I was in Boston. Before then, in Kit’s case.

I tried to plan a homecoming-slash-housewarming party for myself last weekend. Kit couldn’t get a babysitter while his girlfriend, Collins, was at rehearsal. Rhody was at a mandatory corporate retreat up in the Adirondacks. Leo Sinclair, the fourth member of our crew, was scheduled on call at New York General and couldn’t get another resident to cover his shift.

After three rapid rejections from my closest friends, I got the message—life at twenty-eight looks different than life at twenty-five did.

For most people at least. Mine looks roughly the same as the last time I lived in this city, plus a degree I didn’t want and a long-distance relationship that might set a record for only lasting a week.

“I heard we’ll be at the same firm, Flynn.”

I glance left, at George Archibald. Archie, as his friends refer to him as, but I’ve never considered George to be one of mine. He takes himself too seriously, walking around with an air of inflated importance. It reminds me of my father. I’m surprised George is here; our paths normally cross exclusively at stuffy events.

Maybe Proof has changed too.

“Will we?” I reply, genuinely wondering. I don’t know—or care—where George works.

“I’m on the partner track at Locke, Grey, and Lee,” he informs me. “I suppose you’re taking the summer off and won’t be in the office until September?”

“Nope.”

I mouth a heartfelt, Thank you, to the bartender as she delivers my drink. Immaculate timing. She flushes before turning away.

“I selected an early start. Orientation is right after the bar exam.”

George harrumphs, adjusting his watch so the face is on better display. Aggravated by my audacity to be an occasional overachiever, I guess.

He regains his haughty composure while I sip some scotch. “We should get lunch.”

“I’d love to. But Simon Grey already asked me out. If we don’t start going steady, I’ll give you a call.”

George scowls when I mention one of the name partners, who also happens to be one of my father’s golf buddies. “I thought you might have finally grown up, Flynn.”

“Nah,” I reply cheerfully. “Still successfully avoiding that depressing fate.”

Working at one of Manhattan’s top law firms will be a setback. I have no issue with immaturity when I’m the only one affected. That won’t be the case at work. I’ll have to be responsible in the office.

“I don’t understand how you and Christopher Kensington are such good friends,” George comments, sounding truly baffled.

He’s not the only one. My father remains shocked I’m his closest link to the city’s most prominent family. If Julian Parks were asked to list my biggest accomplishments, my friendship with Kit would be at the top.

Now, I understand the surprise. Four years ago, Kit would be beside me, receiving free drinks from the hot bartender and plotting where we were headed next. Today, our lives look totally different. He’s got a corner office and a kid, happily taking on the domestic duties we used to find similarly unappealing.

“Who are you here with?” I ask.

If George is playing poker with other future colleagues, I’ll drain this glass and get out of here.

I mostly lose interest as George lists names of former Dalton classmates, starting with Knox Wellington.